


Resurfacing

by SparrowWritesFanfiction



Category: TF2 - Fandom, Team Fortress 2
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rape, non-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-01
Updated: 2015-12-01
Packaged: 2018-05-04 09:38:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5329376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SparrowWritesFanfiction/pseuds/SparrowWritesFanfiction
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dark things come to light when you least expect them to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Resurfacing

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys! this is a little rant fic i wrote. as a child i was abused and assaulted multiple times, and i wanted other victims to have a comfort story. i also want others to know what's it's like. so why not TF2? anyway, this is a pretty triggering story with graphic depictions of rape and PTSD. if this a problem please don't read this. Enjoy! -love, Sparrow.

“I don’t wanna hurt you babe, no no no. I just wanna love you babe, oh oh oh…”  
The song played fuzzily from an ancient radio in the corner of medic’s lab, the woman’s sultry voice echoing through the shining metal and cold tile to your welcoming ears.

Dancing with Medic was always almost a spiritual experience. His feet moved like a skater on a rink; silent, delicate, and graceful. Holding his gloved hands as you slowly waltzed across the cluttered room was amazing, and you smile gently into his shoulder, feeling comfort and safety. Medic sighs, leaning his head against yours and you feel the roughness of a 5 o’clock shadow on your cheek. As you waltz you both gravitate closer, closer, the music binding you in an invisible spell as the saxophone plays in a soft melody. You’re both like planets, bound to crash, to bind.  
“Medic?” You whisper into his coat as you both turn and rock on the tiles. He answers with a small grunt that reverberates in his chest; you feel it vibrate softly.  
“Thanks for being here with me.” You say, face heating up slightly. Your relationship has always been touch-and-go with the doctor, neither of you ever going into talks about each other or how you felt. Probably because neither of you know what to even say. 

“Oh, frauline.” He whispers, voice deep and soft. Wrapping your arms around his waist you both continue to slowly turn, a rotating solar system all of your own. The moment you both share is crystal clear, a fragment of glass in a bubble of time as it falls to the ground. Medic feels so good, so strong and warm. His chest, you feel his strong heart through the bands of muscle encasing it. He’s so beautiful, so perfect. Not to mention the smell; A warm musky odor mixed with antiseptic and touched with sweat.

You might be in love.

But all good things have to end.

Medic feels so, so good. Being near him is better than any late night fantasy you’ve had in the confines of your room. In your mind that fantasy was safe, and controlled. Unreal and always fading away like smoke. The way it should be. But you can’t help yourself; the chemicals in the air are tangible. And as the song ends in a fading burst of static you know you have to say something.

“Medic,” You hesitate, knowing what you are about to say could change this situation. “Medic, you uh, …you feel really good.” You heart picks up speed, as you await the German’s response.

“I can assure you frauline, you feel better.” He responded into your hair in a chaste tone. He clearly thought you were just observing the happiness you both felt while dancing slowly. After a few more seconds of dancing, you decide to push it one step further, and if this doesn’t work, you’ll leave the matter alone and just enjoy the beauty of this evening. Radio voices chatter far away on medic’s table.

”No, uh, Medic,” You finally spit out, tense and a little apprehensive, “You FEEL. Really, really fucking good.”

Medic’s feet come to a grinding halt and you nearly topple to the side. The silence in the lab in so thick you could touch it and you wonder if you have made a very big mistake.

“No, I’m sorry, it was stupid of me to say that.” You interject into the stillness, tearing yourself away from his heat in embarrassment and averting your eyes. The more you thought about it the dumber you felt. “I, uh, I’m sorry.”

Medic is still. And the stillness is statuesque until he finally speaks.

“Oh Mein Liebling,” He said, and you turn to face him. His eyes are full of something you don’t recognize. “How long I have waited for you to say that.”

And suddenly you’re both together again, and you feel every inch of him against you, and his hands are in your hair. It feels so good, and he feels so warm, whispering sweet nothings in your ear but you can’t shake the cold knot of fear in your stomach. Why? Medic is safe, why are you feeling this way? Why can’t you love him back?!

It all comes rushing back when he slips gloved hands under your shirt. You are helpless against the memories that come rushing back, immobilized with wide eyes. You remember. The smile, the helplessness. He took your clothes, made you feel things you never should have felt that young. He was touching and pushing and it hurt, hurt, hurt and then it was over. And it would start again. And after each time he held you down and hurt you, he still talked to you like you were his friend. 

Panic. It shoots through your system, igniting every nerve ending in a flame of sheer terror. Escape. Escape. Escape. You can run.

“STOP IT!” you suddenly call you, shoving medic’s chest abruptly, hammering it with closed fists. He jumps, pulling away and looking generously confused. You stumble back, looking up with fear and as he takes a step forward in effort to sort this out you pull back, snatching up your coat from the floor where it fell.  
“Don’t touch me. DON’T TOUCH ME!” you half scream, stumbling blindly to the double doors of the infirmary. Tears sting your eyes and you feel a throb of buried pain climbing into your throat as you make your escape into the dark hall of the building.

And you leave medic wondering what the hell just happened.  
______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

It was hard to leave your room for dinner. You spend the hours between that catastrophe playing loud rock on the radio and sitting in the corner of your room, trying not to feel. Anything was better than feeling. You fucked up, you fucked up. 

Medic didn’t come looking for you and you’re pretty sure that’s a good thing. 

But when the dinner bell rang you had to leave. You were tense, triggered, and barely keeping yourself in check. A cold splash of water to your face washed away evidence of tears and cleared your mind a bit; You really, really didn’t want to run into medic, and as you change into fresh pants and a red shirt you decide to just bring a plate of food to your room.  
_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

 

In the mess hall you see engineer setting out the last container of dinner rolls onto the dented metal table. Pyro’s to your left, opening the windows to let the warm summer breeze in. It’s Peaceful. It feels like hell. Applying your best neutral face, you slink into the kitchen and pile cold plate with steaming chili, warm rolls, and slightly charred corn. With a nod to engie, you start your walk back.

Success.

Until you nearly slam face-first into medic as he comes through the doors of the mess hall. You freeze, cheeks heating up and you nearly drop your plate. The German stalls too, looking shocked. But as he opens his mouth to speak you rush past him in a flurry of hair and embarrassment. You have to get back to your room; You can’t handle this right now. You can’t, you can’t.  
Yet despite your best mental mantra you hear him turn sharply, following you down the hallway and you break into a brisk trot right as you near your room. Slamming the door. Locking it.

Safe.

“You can’t pretend nothing happened.” Comes a voice from behind the door, soft and concerned. “We need to talk.”

You sigh. He’s right. Setting down the plate on a rickety dresser you slowly unlock the door, anticipating the worst. Standing there is medic, and you feel a small jolt of panic enmeshed with love and fear. “Come in.” You respond, sitting in the edge of the bed. Clearly seeing your discomfort, the doctor chose a wooden chair instead. The room falls silent again, the crickets outside the only source of sound besides your pounding heart. It’s like time has decided to stop, the world around you narrowing to just two people, lost in a universal nothingness. 

“Please talk to me.” He started. You look at his face from the corner of your eye. He’s tired. Unhappy. You feel guilt for riling him up, yet nausea at the remembrance of the current event.

“It was nothing, I don’t really want to talk about it.” You mean to say, but it comes out as a regretful whisper. You wish you could tell him, you think as you rub your hands together. But thinking about it is terrifying. “Look, uh. Let’s just forget it. Okay?” You reply to your own comment. He stares at you and you feel it on your skin. Medic sighs as you shuffle uncomfortably, and takes a moment to rub his face with his hands.

“Frauline, if I did something-“ He begins to say.  
“NO! no,” You interject, “You uh, didn’t do anything. It was nothing.” This conversation is as painful as pulling teeth. You wish he would leave. But you wish he would stay. You don’t want him to see the water starting to collect in your eyes but an annoyed exhale brings your attention to the man across from you.

“I will sit in this chair until you tell me what is terrifying you,” he said strongly, eyes locking with yours. They’re bright, angry. Concerned. “Or god help me I will go the Administrator instead.”

That statement brings a raspy breathe from your lungs, a ghost of worry. This is something you don’t want him finding out from the administrator. This is personal. But then again this is something you hoped you would never have to discuss again. However, at this point you don’t have much of a choice. You have to tell him about The Events.

Deep breath. White knuckle it.

“When i… when I was twelve,” You begin, breathe coming with difficulty to your lungs, “ I knew an older guy. I, um, I thought he was cool, you know? Really looked up to him. I didn’t know wha-“ you choke a bit, recovering quickly, “I didn’t know what he was doing at the time was wrong of him. Uh, when I would go to his house would. He would…” You can’t help it. The tears are pushing themselves into your eyes, hot and heavy and prickling. Medic was stoic, jaw clenched so hard you saw the bulge of muscle on his face. Wiping a hand hastily across your eyes you continue. “He..he would tell me to keep it secret between us. And he would promise to buy me things if I was quiet about- about it. And I fought him, I really did, but he held me down, told me I wanted it. And he, ugh… he would, oh god he-“ the tears, thick and fast, overflowed onto your red cheeks. Years of clogged emotions and repression were emerging, foul and spoiled. 

“He would what, Liebling.” Medic said softly, his body betraying his emotions. His strong hands were white-knuckle gripping the chair, shoulders drawing tight in repressed emotion.

You gasp for air through the pain. This was it. It was time to let go.  
“He- he,…” You say, your throat restricting and painful, “Oh medic, he would rape me!”

There it was. The tears were coming fast now, your chest heaving. Explosions of repressed fear and buried anger, guilt, and anxiety ricochet around in your chest. “And-“ you sob, “and I was just a kid!” The pain was indescribably horrible. It consumed you.

“Liebling.” He said in a strained voice, and in a flash he was there, kneeling on the floor in front of you and holding your hands in your lap, and you heaved in heavy wailing sobs.

“I’m sorry” you hiccup and cry as you downcast your eyes, “It’s just- it’s just that be…being touched now scares me so much, i- I want you give you happiness, god I’m so sorry-“

“VERDAMMIT!” medic practically yells, making you jump. “Now listen to me,” He says, fully emotional and locking his expressive eyes with your red ones, “I will never, NEVER. Do anything to you, do you hear me?! I will NEVER hurt you, I will never touch you unless you come to me. I will NEVER guilt you into anything, and I will NEVER, EVER FORCE YOU.” His calloused hands shake slightly with emphasis. You nod jerkily through the tears, bursting again into a full-fledged sob. With a small sound of pain medic takes you up in his arms, sitting you on his lap while you hold onto his coat like a lifeline. It’s like a sea is passing through you, and you are a narrow outlet. You were never meant to hold this much back, and now the dam has broken. You press your hot face deep into the coat’s material, smelling that comforting smell and wetting it with immeasurable amounts of tears. All the pain you have been hiding, all of the trauma and fear caused by one person is making one final appearance, and you cry. You cry rivers and oceans, sobbing into medic’s arms as you get bits and pieces of your story out through choking lips. A whole world of trauma is finally passing through, scraping you and leaving you raw. 

When the last tear has been shed, your shirt is wet. Medic’s coat, too. You shake softly, remnants of spiky fear trailing out of you like the dredges of coffee pouring down a sink. You feel so empty, so tired. It’s like an unseen force took a pad of steel wool to your insides, scrubbing them until there was nothing left. Hiccuping and slowly heaving, medic softly strokes your hair, whispering German nothings above your head.

And for the second time that day, you feel safe.


End file.
